The Future That Never Was
by AndyTGD
Summary: Following the destruction of the ZeiraCorp HQ, Sarah is fighting for her life against forces which she feels increasingly powerless to stop. Her son is all alone in a dark future where the odds are against his survival. Where is Cameron when you need her?


Starting at the conclusion of Season Two's 'Born to Run', this story explores the lives of the characters after that unforgettable cliff-hanger. Hopefully there will be some revelations along the way which will surprise, or at least answer some questions. Oh, and maybe some Jameron - or maybe not. I'm not revealing that yet. If that plot line goes anywhere, I'll do my best to treat it respectfully. This is my first fic, so positive criticism and ideas are like gold dust for me! The first two chapters are mainly about putting the chess pieces in place, so I'd like to apologise in advance for the usual 'what happened next' scenario. I hope that you will enjoy the story and will stick around to see what happens next. :)

**Chapter One: The Ones They Left Behind**

The CEO of ZeiraCorp, Catherine Weaver, had many secrets hidden in the basement of the company's headquarters. Apart from the Artificial Intelligence, named John Henry, which she had been secretly nurturing for months, there was one piece of technology which absolutely nobody knew existed. Even the people who interacted with the A.I. on a daily basis were unaware that the entire room was, in reality, the displacement chamber of a time machine. However, John Henry was fully aware of the machine's existence. Following the transfer of his consciousness to his new chip, he had recognised the control console without difficulty. He knew exactly what he had to do and his new mobility had granted him the freedom to achieve it. He set the controls for his desired date and waited.

John Connor stood in the same room roughly five minutes later, in the company of his mother, Mr. Ellison and Catherine Weaver. He had been the first to notice Cameron. She was powered down and her chip, the container of what was fundamentally 'her', was missing. As he stared into the vacant face, his heart felt like it was being slowly crushed in a vice. It was inexplicable, he couldn't understand why he felt this way. About a machine. Especially one whose entire purpose of being had been to kill him. What was this feeling? Merely pain at the loss of a friend? No, he had lost friends before and what he was experiencing was greater than that. Had he fallen in love with her? The cold void in his chest throbbed as he stared at her long brown hair, the same hair he recalled caressing tenderly after the A.R.T.I.E. incident. So much had changed since then. He couldn't stand to see her this way. As Weaver programmed the Time Displacement Equipment to pursue John Henry, he had made his mind up. He would hunt down the thing which had taken her chip and bring her back. By any means. There had been a blinding flash of light as they vanished, leaving Sarah Connor and James Ellison to pick up the pieces.

* * *

"It's all gone." Sarah Connor's voice was choked with emotion. "The fire has spread to the records department and Weaver's office is demolished."

As head of security, James Ellison had easily accessed the footage from the building's security cameras. They quickly examined the myriad of moving images. Most above the fourth floor showed static interspersed with flashes of fire and smoke. Those above the sixth floor were completely blank.

"John Henry had complete access to everything in this building: security cameras, motion sensors, records, the lot. There may still be information on that computer which will tell us about what happened here. Where Catherine and your boy went to."

She examined the computer, which had been known to her as the Turk. The second Turk, she corrected herself. The first Turk, which had been a less adaptable machine, was destroyed in a house fire, which she herself had lit. She didn't miss the irony. Externally, there was nothing unusual about it, except for the array of technology which it was hooked up to. It was a simple black case with three red indicator lights. It seemed strange that such an unassuming piece of metal could evolve into something as malevolent as Skynet. The activity lights strobed gently. It seemed to be functioning. This seemed likely given that a nearby screen continued to repeat its message of 'I'm Sorry John'. She felt a surge of anger towards the battle-damaged rag doll, Cameron. The one who had inadvertently lured her son, John Connor, into following Catherine Weaver through the time portal. He was gone, and she had no way of following even if she had wanted to. The time machine's controls looked hopelessly destroyed. She was starting to regret her decision. Ignorant metal bitch, she didn't understand the meaning of sorry. She suddenly realized that her grief was distracting her: she had to access the computer. There was a combination lock on the glass door protecting the Turk. She took the pistol from the waistband of her pants and drove the butt hard onto the transparent surface. Nothing. Not even a crack.

"We don't have much time. Won't be long until cops will be swarming all over this place. We need to move this thing - take it all with us. Do you know the combination to that case? Or which pieces to bring?"

"No, I don't." He said, half-distracted by the images from one of the cameras on the first floor. It was a bald, spectacled man, cowering behind a desk strewn with scattered papers. He was desperately clutching at a telephone, presumably attempting to dial out to the emergency services. "But I think I know someone who does."

Matt Murch, head of ZeiraCorp's artificial intelligence project, barely knew what to think. Ten minutes before, he had been literally dragged from his office and held at gunpoint by a crazed woman, who it appeared, had mounted a terrorist attack on the ZeiraCorp headquarters. What made it more terrifying was the fact that this woman was a known fugitive who had her face all over the media. What was her name again? Sarah Kramer - Connor? Yes, Connor. That was it. He was standing awkwardly in the familiar basement lab which had housed the Artificial Intelligence known first as the Turk, then project Babylon and finally John Henry. The dimly lit, small room was filled with a haze of smoke from overloaded equipment. A pile of clothes lay in the centre of the room and in the chair, where John Henry's robotic body should have been, slumped the damaged remains of another cyborg. Almost half of her face was missing, the CPU port was open and she was completely powered down. It was unpleasant.

"Don't worry, we're not here to hurt you" she had reassured him, attempting to pry open the Turk's reinforced glass door with a bloody switchblade. "We'll explain everything once we're out of here. Quick, help me disconnect this thing. I need the combination to open this box. Then you can help Ellison with her."

She gestured over her shoulder in the general direction of the cyborg. Murch, holding both his hands in-front of him in an act of surrender, looked from Sarah to Ellison and then back. His eyes were filled with fear.

"Hey, there's no need to take hostages. I.. I won't tell anyone about what happened - I don't even know what happened here! James, back me up here. I know you don't want to hurt anybody, you're a good man..."

Ellison was struggling to lift the cyborg without assistance, he lay it back in the chair and crouched, facing the technician. His face was tired and drawn.

"If you want to live, you've got to come with us. The people who did this will kill everyone involved with the A.I. project. Fancy your chances alone?"

"Why would someone do that? I.. uh.." He suddenly recalled the attempted hacking of John Henry just days before. It added up. "What about the police? They've got safe houses for..."

Sarah interrupted him, her eyes pleading to be believed. "The police can't protect you. We can. We need your help to find out what happened here. You're the only one who can fix this thing." She pointed at the cube-shaped computer. "The answer may or may not lie in that machine, but we will never know without your help. Please, I've just lost my son. I don't want that to be in vain."

"Just who are you people? Mercenaries or something?" His attention turned back to Cameron. "And that... it's just like the last one you brought here." He pointed at Ellison, recalling the fateful day he had brought the Terminator, which had been Cromartie, to ZeiraCorp. "Where the hell are you getting these things from? The Korean black market?"

Sarah looked up from where she was. Ellison had been wheeling Cameron towards the door, he stopped and turned to her, looking at her like a cheating husband would to his wife. So, that confirms it. He had been the one who had exhumed the Terminator before they had a chance to permanently destroy it. Not only had he betrayed their trust; he could have brought the world closer to its demise. She made a note to watch him very carefully. Ellison simply wanted to brush the whole unpleasant episode under the carpet.

"I'm not really sure where this one came from. Or why we're bringing it with us. You should ask her."

Murch looked at Sarah. For more answers. She was getting impatient with the technician, he was holding them back. Any minute now SWAT men would be filling the basement with tear gas. Time to give the idiot an answer - any answer. Preferably one which would scare him into some kind of productive action.

"Right now. We're your only hope of getting out of here alive. As for the machine, she came from the future. Just like your missing robot. And your boss. If we just leave it here, someone is going to take it and reverse engineer that technology. Then it will be used to exterminate the human race. Like vermin. We can't allow that to happen, can we James?"

There was an awkward silence in the room, as he stared open-mouthed at the machine sitting limply in John Henry's chair. He had once asked Catherine precisely where the advanced robotics of John Henry's cyborg puppet had come from. When no answer was forthcoming, he had assumed it was stolen. In a way, he was relieved to finally have an answer to the question which had caused him many sleepless nights. Sarah continued to tear at the glass panel protecting Turk. She turned back to him.

"When you're finished day dreaming, I could use some help here!"

* * *

On the top floor of the building, Catherine Weaver's once plush office had been completely demolished by an unmanned aerial drone. It had been intended as a last ditch attempt to assassinate Weaver, following a previous failed attempt on her life by a T-888. On both occasions, it was Skynet's assumption that she was human which had saved her. The A.I. was oblivious to the fact that Weaver was, in reality, a machine composed entirely of liquid metal. Among the flames and debris something stirred. The drone, although partially buried under debris, was still intact. Its engines whined as it struggled to break free. It was fortunate for Skynet that the hyperalloy chassis had proven so durable.

* * *

With the assistance of Mr. Murch, Sarah and Ellison managed to remove most of the essential equipment from the basement using a back door to the underground parking lot. They had left Murch to the task of removing several hard drives from the server racks, as they set about bringing Cameron to the vehicle. They were running across the tarmac, half-carrying, half-dragging her between them. Ellison laughed nervously, he was already out of breath. They had been carrying her for ten meters since the staircase. He recalled the discussion they had whilst in the lift heading up to see Ms Catherine Weaver.

"What was all that about parking meters on the street?"

"Would you have felt better if I'd told you Cameron was going to find and smash your A.I. playmate to pieces?"

"No, but..."

"Then shut up and keep lifting this thing. You're putting all the weight on me!"

They heaved Cameron's limp body across the back passenger seats and covered it with the discarded clothes, which they had lifted from the basement floor. Sarah jumped into the driver's seat. She cursed every second the car was static. Murch was the last one to the car. He sprinted across the parking lot, looking over his shoulder as he ran. As he neared the car, a shot echoed around the walls of the lot. Blood sparked from the man's ankle as he flung himself through the rear passenger door, hurling the sack of hard drives into Cameron's lap. Another two shots followed, but thudded harmlessly into a nearby concrete support column.

"Go! Damn it!" He screamed, as she put her foot on the gas pedal. The car quickly picked up speed and roared through the concrete underworld towards the light. The rear window shattered and glass rained over the assorted equipment, but it wasn't enough to stop the car as it burst out of the exit and turned sharply right on to the road leading away from the building.

High above the sidewalk, fragments of glass and debris fell from Weaver's office, as the strange outline of the drone emerged. It hovered uncertainly at first, adjusting its thrusters accordingly to compensate. It was at this point, a distant operator assumed control of piloting the drone. Whilst the machine was, to a degree, autonomous; it was lacking the ability to make complex decisions for itself. Despite its array of advanced sensors, the aircraft was incapable of anything more complicated than keeping itself airborne and returning home. It would have observed the emergency service vehicles scattered around the foyer, the people fleeing from the burning building and the bystanders who watched the chaos from a distance. But it was the keen eye of the operator who noticed the jeep fleeing from the underground car park. It would be unwise to launch another suicidal attack. The operator settled back and followed the car from a safe distance.

Sarah looked in the rear view mirror. It appeared that no-one was following them. Two police cars passed them on the opposite side of the road, sirens blazing. She thought this unusual.

"Why aren't they tailing us? Those shooters in the basement would have passed on our details by now. This doesn't make sense."

Murch looked up from tending to his injury, "I wasn't shot by the police. Those people were dressed as janitors. They saw me leaving the room and opened fire. Guess you were right."

Ellison stared at the bloody shirt he had tied around the wound, "Are you okay?"

"I think it's only a graze, it's not like I need a hospital or anything. Still hurts like hell though - do you have a first aid kit in here?"

Without taking her eyes off the road ahead, Sarah motioned to the glove box in front of Ellison. Out of the corner of her vision, she could have sworn she saw something low in the sky, moving between the buildings. Then it was gone. _Pull yourself together_, she thought to herself. What she really needed now was rest and time to forget what had happened.

* * *

The first hour of the journey, for the most part, was quiet and uneventful. After Sarah had attempted to explain the subject of Judgment Day, there had been silence in the car. As he sat in the rear passenger seat of the jeep, nervously cleaning his spectacles, Murch replayed over in his head the tale of things to come. It was not impossible, he reasoned, that such a thing should occur. However, the scale of this hellish future was beyond all understanding.

"So, let me get this straight. In a few years time, an A.I. called Skynet will declare war on the world and hunt down humans using machines like her?"

"That's the gist of it. Yes."

Ellison reached into this coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Sarah glanced sideways at him.

"You're not going to make me smash that thing are you? The phone. One call is all it takes to get us killed."

"Yes, I know that. I'm checking the news sites for any stories about what just happened. I'm curious to see just how much trouble we're in."

One particular article attracted his attention: 'Business woman feared dead after office block explosion'. Yes, it was about Weaver. After scrolling through lines of conjecture as to the cause of the explosion, it mentioned that 'her daughter, the subject of a recent kidnapping, is now under police protection'.

"Anything useful?"

"Yeah, it looks like some folks in the media are trying to tie you in with the explosion. We don't have to go get Savannah after all. They've put her under police protection. Do you think she'll be safe?"

"No-one is safe. But if Kaliba thinks that her mother is dead, they shouldn't have any reason to go after her. Either way, there's nothing more we can do."

He watched the expression of callous indifference on her face. Did she feel anything for what the girl was going through? Maybe somewhere deep inside that armored exterior she did. She needed to remain detached; it was the only way to continue functioning. After so many years of being chased by nightmares, any lesser person would have lost their sanity.

"You look exhausted. Pull over for a second and I'll take over. I promise I won't hand you in to the police."

"I promise you won't either. Normally I'd refuse the offer, but these aren't normal circumstances." There was a trace of a smile in her weary face, as she pulled the jeep over to the verge. They swapped sides and continued along the road.

"So. Where to next? What's the plan?"

"There wasn't one. The plan was to keep driving until we got to a quiet motel and lie low until I could figure something out. Maybe take a look at that computer for some clues."

"Well, I have an idea if you're willing to hear it."

"Go on, hit me. Can't be any worse."

"I've got somewhere we can stay, but its still quite far away. About six hours drive time; in Nevada. Nobody knows about it, except for me. You okay about that?"

"Sounds like a plan." She looked over her shoulder at Murch. "You okay with this?"

"I'm being hunted by a rouge A.I. from the future, which wants me dead. The far away secret place sounds alright to me."

"You'll get used to it."

* * *

It was dark by the time they had pulled up at their destination. They had been on the road for almost seven hours. The trailer had certainly been out of the way. It was nothing exceptional from the outside and had clearly seen better days. Even in the dark, it looked uncared for.

With Ellison's help, Sarah started shifting the computer components from the car. Stepping through the door, she was pleasantly surprised by the interior of the caravan. It was relatively spacious; with seating, a table, a compact restroom and a small cooking area. At the rear of the trailer was a large gasoline-powered generator, covered with a camouflaged tarpaulin.

"It's the best I can do, for now. Don't worry, it might not look like much; but it's got food, water and a generator. It was supposed to be my retreat for the end of the world. I bought it shortly before I left the Bureau to work for Weaver. I was planning on going for an extended vacation here, like your friend Silberman."

"What made you change your mind? I don't recall you being the kind of man who could adjust to living like a hermit. Eating wild berries and locusts. That kind of thing."

He grinned, gesturing to the dusty wilderness surrounding them. "You won't find many berries around these parts. I can manage on canned food just fine."

"You know what I mean. There was once a time when you'd have been happy to see me locked away for life in a psychiatric ward. Since when did you start taking this stuff seriously?"

Recalling the painful events, which had been brought back to the surface of his memory, he wiped a hand over his face and leaned against the trailer wall.

"I was going through a rough patch, around the time that robot masquerading as George Laszlo, murdered my colleagues. Twenty two men and women went to their deaths that day. If I had listened to you they would probably still be alive. It got me thinking about some of the things you said."

"Mistakes are hard to live with," her heart sank as she remembered John's departure and all the friends she had lost since the Terminator had come into her life, "We just have to make sure we don't repeat them."

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Murch to assemble the equipment which they had taken from ZeiraCorp. Each piece of hardware had been quickly checked and plugged into the corresponding socket on the rear side of the Turk, which now sat on the table in the center of the room. Cameron was lying on the couch, both arms along her sides and appeared to be staring blankly at the ceiling. Twice Sarah had offered to help and twice she had been refused with a curt "No no, I can manage". She felt like a spare part. These had been two choices: pace the floor inside or stand watch outside. She concluded, overall, that it would be better to stay inside, rather than be choked by fumes or deafened by the electric generator. He adjusted the two screens slightly to compensate for glare and flicked on the power. Both monitors came to life and after a few seconds of scrolling incomprehensible text, proceeded into a graphical representation of the file system. The second monitor, immediately began to repeat Cameron's apology in an unending cycle.

"What's this? They're all gone."

Ellison looked over the man's shoulder at the screen, "What gone, Mr. Murch?"

"Well, everything. All John Henry's core files have been erased."

Sarah glanced at the second monitor, it was still repeating itself. "Wait, if all the files have been overwritten, where is that message coming from?"

"Basically, there's a program which was set to loop a simple message and it is part of this entirely new collection of files, which has in turn, replaced John Henry. Everything which was distinctly John Henry, every piece of code, has been thoroughly overwritten. There are enough similarities between the the old and new code to assume that this is also some form of artificial intelligence."

She looked thoughtfully at Cameron. The machine was completely devoid of life, or rather simulated life. She was now, nothing more than a mannequin in a shop window. A rather macabre one at that.

"Could it be her? I mean, is it possible that this John Henry copied all her files onto the Turk?"

"Yes, that could be a possibility. But there are other worse case scenarios..."

"Care to explain?"

Murch cleared his throat, preparing himself to say something which was supposed to be strictly confidential. But this was certainly not the time for keeping corporate secrets.

"A few days ago, someone or something breached John Henry's firewall and stuffed malware down its throat. We were pretty sure that we had successfully repaired the damage, but you should know there is a possibility that a small part of it could have survived and downloaded these files from the internet."

"So, what you're telling me is this computer is either Cameron or something sent to kill us."

"In an oversimplified way. Yes."

"Okay, how are we going to find out what this machine is and what it knows?"

"That should be easy enough. We talk to it. It would probably be best to use the girl as a peripheral. You'll find it makes it easier to interact with the computer." _Girl?_ There were probably more appropriate terms available. Especially with all that metal and flesh protruding.

"You'll find it makes it easier for the computer to crush your head and rip off your limbs. But, we're running out of ideas, so I'm willing to give it a go. If it tries anything, we should be able to just pull the plug."

Producing the switch-blade, and under Murch's guidance, Sarah tilted Cameron's head sideways and made a circular incision approximately three inches above the nape of her neck. She parted the hair and carefully peeled back the layer of artificial flesh, revealing a sealed access port, which was almost flush with the chrome skull. Using the end of the blade, she carefully pried off the protective cap. There was a rush of compressed air. Ellison produced a piece of interface cable, which had originally been used to link the Cromartie cyborg to the computer, and plugged one end into the exposed socket. Murch then spent a further thirteen minutes typing commands into the Turk. When he had finished, he turned from the screen and with a nervous smile exclaimed "Done!"

"Just don't blame me if something goes wrong - took me a fortnight to prime the A.I. last time I tried something like this. There are simillaritites, but on the whole this is a very different architecture to work with. Do I have a green light?"

He looked to Sarah for confirmation. She gave it with a single, cautious nod.

"Right! Lets see what happens..."

He took the opposite end of the cord and plugged it into a spare socket on the Turk. The indicator lights showed sporadic activity and then pulsed busily. The second monitor, which had been blank since the switch-over, suddenly flickered to life; generating lines of unfathomable code.

REACTIVATE

acv FEP01-32

proc: 00 online

upd: sys_routine

updated

ROUTING POWER TO BASIC SYSTEMS

DRV_SRC: online

NRV_SYS 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

SHNT ALL

Cameron's body jerked. Slowly, her head turned towards them and the left photoreceptor began to glow redly. Her only remaining eye blinked and then focussed on each of the nervous people in the room. Sarah clutched at the interface cord.

Her first words were "Where is John?"


End file.
